


(With You, I'm) Sleeping My Day Away

by aintgonnaleaveyoumikey



Series: Something Happened On The Way To Heaven (But We'll Get There) [3]
Category: Grand Theft Auto Series (Video Games), Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: Cheating, Ending C: The Third Way, Frottage, Homophobic Language, M/M, Oral Sex, Post-Canon, Semi-Public Sex, canon-typical mention of defiling a teddy bear, canon-typical mentions of drugs, canon-typical mentions of prostitution, canon-typical mentions of violence, fluff and smut and so much fighting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:55:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24286216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aintgonnaleaveyoumikey/pseuds/aintgonnaleaveyoumikey
Summary: He stared at the ceiling, listened to Trevor's heavy breathing and waited.
Relationships: Amanda De Santa/Michael De Santa, Michael De Santa/Trevor Philips
Series: Something Happened On The Way To Heaven (But We'll Get There) [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1640233
Comments: 12
Kudos: 87





	(With You, I'm) Sleeping My Day Away

Michael woke up feeling somewhat refreshed, and for a moment he thought he had died in his sleep. 

He hadn't slept well in years. Having a good night's sleep now must mean he was dead. 

He stared at the ceiling, listened to Trevor's heavy breathing and waited. When no one came to tell him that he was dead and had gone to heaven — because this didn't seem like hell to him, hell would be him sitting alone by the pool drinking his depression away or hanging upside down from a meathook eternally — he reached out his right hand to lightly touch Trevor's back.

At some point during the night Trevor had rolled away from him, but the bed wasn't that big. Michael reached him easily and ran his fingers up and down Trevor's back. His skin was warm and alluring; Michael felt the same pull towards him that he had felt when they were young, and he turned to Trevor, propping himself up on an elbow. Trevor had kicked off his covers to the end of the bed and was now snoring unashamedly naked. He had always slept like that. No inhibitions. 

Michael’s gaze landed on Trevor’s neck, where he found a tattoo of a small bird, almost covered by his hair, another tattoo that he hadn’t seen before. He touched it gently, pushing Trevor’s hair aside. It was oddly adorable and possibly the most _hipster_ thing to ever exist, he would have to tease Trevor about it later. He smirked and his eyes swept over Trevor’s body, admiring what he saw — the scars and bruises on his body being something Michael was used to, they didn’t bother him in the slightest, but he quickly averted his eyes when he saw a glimpse of _the_ tattoo on his arm, and the gentle smile that had played on his lips turned into a thoughtful frown.

The tattoo had come as a complete surprise to him. Now that he was thinking about it, Trevor must have kept it hidden from him on purpose. With all their fighting ever since Trevor found him, it was weird that Trevor hadn’t brought it up earlier. Michael thought about his involuntary holiday in Sandy Shores: they had fallen into a rhythm where Michael slept during the night, when Trevor was out doing… only God knows what, and Trevor occasionally slept a whole day when Michael was sitting outside and convincing himself not to walk into the desert to die. He had wondered, just for the briefest moment, why Trevor wasn’t trying to sleep next to him. Michael had brushed it off, assumed it was because of his infatuation with Patricia, but maybe he had tried to keep the tattoo hidden, as well.

Their _second_ first kiss, seeing the tattoo, everything that happened after it… It felt like floodgates had finally been opened after a decade of him storing these well-guarded feelings, and he had no way of stopping them rushing down on him. He didn't even want to. He surprised himself with how calm he was, and he hoped Trevor would see it too. Clearly Trevor had waited for him to freak out yesterday, but he had no intention of letting him down.

Not ever again.

It was always Trevor who turned his life upside down in the best and the worst ways possible. Michael wasn't a romantic person, he didn't believe in destiny or _soulmates_ , but the maniac next to him was the closest thing to one he could ever have. And he had given up on that. Of course things had been complicated back then, and he didn't regret having Tracey and Jimmy, no matter how much they fought, but maybe things could have worked out better for all of them. Maybe if he hadn't tried to shut Trevor out of their lives as aggressively as Amanda had ordered…

Sometimes he blamed Amanda for the way his life had turned out, but that wasn't fair. He was the one who should have made better decisions. He never stopped to think his actions through and, oh, how he despised himself for that. 

He dared to look at Trevor's tattoo again. Seeing his name on Trevor's skin was jarring. He wished he had the courage to ask Trevor about the 9 years they spent apart. When and where had he gotten the tattoo, was it spur of the moment or planned? He ran his fingers over it.

He _would_ ask. At some point.

First he just needed to figure out how not to fuck everything up again. He mulled it over for a while, and eventually came to the conclusion that he had to stop lying. No more lies. He would talk to Amanda soon, ask for a divorce, set them both free. And later he would tell his family about Trevor and yeah, they would probably hate him for a while, but what else was new? 

He would also have to be honest with Trevor. And he needed to _trust_ him. He almost laughed out loud, the notion of trusting Trevor might seem crazy at best, but trusting him in _this_ was surprisingly easy. He wore his heart on his sleeve, it was usually easy to know what he was thinking. Yeah, Trevor had tried to hurt him, several times, but never unprovoked. They were even, anyway, and all that shit was behind them as far as Michael was concerned. And most importantly, Michael knew his family would be safe. 

So now, after all this time, he had to learn how _to trust_ and _not lie_. That might have been easier said than done.

Trevor hummed softly in his sleep and Michael contemplated getting closer to him, but he needed to take a piss first. 

He got up reluctantly and went to the bathroom, and on the way he glanced at the alarm clock on the table next to the bed, and was shocked to see it was almost 4 pm. He had slept for over eight hours. He never slept for more than six, no matter how drunk he got or how miserable he felt. Or maybe being miserable had always kept him from sleeping well, since he had been pretty drunk yesterday, too, and the only variant, the reason why he wasn't miserable now, was lightly snoring in the shitty motel bed. 

When he got back, he heard a phone faintly vibrating against the floor somewhere amongst his and Trevor's clothes abandoned near the door. Figuring it might be his, he snatched his jeans up, took out his phone and saw Amanda's picture on the screen. Shit. Of course she would worry, he was always home by morning even if he stayed out late drinking or finding solace in working girls. 

He didn't want to wake Trevor by talking to her, and more importantly he didn't want to talk to her just now, so he silenced the call, and immediately noticed three other missed calls, all from Amanda. Hesitantly, he started to write her a text.

_Hey, I'm alive_.

Michael didn't know how to continue. Obviously he couldn't tell her the truth by a text, but he didn't want her to worry. He typed out _Not sure when I'm coming home_ , then deleted it and instead wrote _A job opportunity came up, checking it out with T_ and hit send. They hadn't done any jobs after the big one, but Amanda didn't need to know that. He turned the vibration off and stuffed the phone back to his pocket. 

He turned around and saw that Trevor had sat up and was looking at him through half-closed eyes, frowning sleepily. The man rarely slept, he went days fueled by meth, but when he slept, he was out of it for ages. Much longer than eight hours. He must still be exhausted. 

"Morning," Michael said, smiling a bit and dropping his jeans on a chair.  
"You leaving?" Trevor grumbled and rubbed his eyes.  
"No. Amanda just tried to call me." He got back on the bed, sat next to Trevor, who stared at him like he had just said that Solomon Richards' movies suck. It took him a while to drawl out the words: "Well, what does our darling Mandy want?"  
"It doesn't matter now. Go back to sleep," Michael said and pushed Trevor on his back.  
"Don't tell me what to do, Sugartits." Trevor said but closed his eyes. Michael smiled and pulled Trevor's covers on him.  
"What, you don't want to sleep a bit longer? When have you even last slept?"  
"Can't remember," Trevor said weakly, already almost asleep.  
"Of course you don't," Michael muttered under his breath, lay down himself and closed his eyes. He might as well.

He had almost fallen asleep when he felt Trevor’s hand in his own.  
"If I wake up and you’re gone…"  
"I’m staying, Trev. Now sleep, you look like shit."

***

Michael woke up with a startle when Trevor flopped partly over him, partly next to him, and nuzzled his neck.  
"Jesus Christ," Michael gasped and tried to calm down his furiously beating heart. Waking up for the second time that day had him feeling more groggy and confused, and he remembered why he didn't usually nap. But at least Trevor seemed energetic. 

"Oh, the Sleeping Beauty awakens," Trevor sneered, but the usual harshness of his voice was soothed by him pressing his face against Michael's neck and jaw.  
"Ah, fuck off. I only went back to sleep because of you," Michael mumbled and stretched his back as much as Trevor's weight on top of him allowed to. Trevor's hand wandered on his stomach and chest and he put his arm around Trevor's shoulder, hugging him closer. Michael felt Trevor smile against his skin and his cock already hardening against his thigh.

"And what exactly would you do instead of sleeping, Sugar? Unless you'd want to molest me in my sleep, there's nothing to do here," Trevor murmured and grazed Michael's skin with his teeth before sucking. Michael grunted and dropped his hand to Trevor's waist. 

Trevor continued kissing his neck and Michael's thoughts wandered because of Trevor’s words. Back in the day, while waiting for Trevor to wake up in motels just as shitty as this one, he had usually gotten drunk and smoked too many cigarettes and either lost himself in his movie fantasies or daytime television on low volume, _maybe occasionally_ looking at Trevor sleeping. There really wasn't anything to do back then. Now he could have just watched a whole movie on his phone, but the thought hadn't even crossed his mind.

Maybe he had gotten old and soft.

"What are you thinking about, Sugartits? Please, enlighten me with your wisdom."  
"It's nothing," Michael chuckled. All this sentimentality was embarrassing, even though Trevor probably wouldn’t mind it.

He pulled back and was looking at Michael’s face, a small smile on his lips.  
"Bullshit. _I know you_. Tell me."  
"Just... living in the past for a moment."  
When Trevor said nothing, Michael continued.  
"You know. You, me, motel rooms after jobs, sleeping all day and... partying all night," Michael smirked.  
"Ooh, the good old days, Mikey, simpler times," Trevor grinned back at him, but Michael couldn't miss the emptiness in his voice. Something was bothering him. He pressed a kiss to Trevor's lips and encouraged Trevor to get properly on top of him by nudging him in the back. Trevor obliged and straddled him.

"You're right, Trev, there's nothing to do here except sleep or have sex," Michael feigned nonchalance, trying to distract Trevor from whatever he was thinking.  
"Mmh, is that right, Cowboy?" Trevor's voice was low and it made Michael’s cock harden. He ran his hands up Trevor’s side and pulled him down into a kiss. Trevor’s reaction was immediate and eager, and the kiss became sloppy when Trevor’s hands caressed their way up to Michael's neck and pressed slightly, not enough to cut off his breathing completely but enough for him to feel the effect. Michael moaned softly into their kiss, which made Trevor growl and let go of Michael’s neck in order to get upright again. He fumbled for Michael’s boxers, but soon grew frustrated.

"You should sleep naked, Sugartits, this would be much easier," Trevor snapped and pulled Michael's boxers down just enough to free his cock.  
"I'll keep that in mind," Michael answered dryly, and after he felt Trevor’s hand wrap around his hard shaft, he reciprocated. They started stroking each other lazily and Michael sank deeper into the pillows, relishing the sensation and moaning softly.

Yesterday had been heated and erratic, now they were just enjoying each other leisurely. Trevor had his eyes closed and Michael looked at his face: he looked uncharacteristically content, his usual frown gone and his small smile contagious.  
"Trev," Michael murmured. Their eyes met.  
"Yeah, Cupcake?"  
Michael took Trevor’s hands in his own and muttered a "Come here, baby", pulling him down to kiss him again. Trevor complied with a smirk, and he brought Michael’s hands above his head before deepening the kiss and slowly grinding their cocks together. They groaned simultaneously and Trevor slightly pulled away from the kiss.

"You just wanted me to hump you, huh?" Trevor spoke against Michael’s lips with laughter in his voice.  
"Fuck you," Michael chuckled.  
"I _wish_ you would."  
"Impatient as always, T. I’m still not fucking you without lube," Michael reminded Trevor of the conversation they had in the shower last night, or this morning, more precisely.  
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, you fussy..." Trevor grumbled.  
"Hey, I’m just looking out for you. We have time for that later," Michael promised. Trevor just scoffed and ran his hands down Michael’s arms to his chest, all the while humping against him. Michael’s hands found Trevor’s hips as Trevor flicked his fingers across Michael's nipples. They really weren't that sensitive, but if Trevor got something out of it, he didn't mind it. 

What he _did_ mind was outright mockery. 

"God, these fat tits of yours," Trevor gnarred, grabbing and squeezing them hard.  
"How about you don’t insult me when we’re having sex, you fucking asshole?" Michael grimaced, his smile gone, and clenched Trevor’s hips tight. The problem with that was that it didn’t put Trevor off _at all_ , he just gasped at the rough contact, urging Michael to grip tighter, and grinded their cocks together at a faster pace.  
"Oh, quit your bellyaching, Mikey, I’m not fucking insulting you, you _know_ I love your body, I love every part of it, I love..." Trevor stopped himself, but the mood had already changed fast, and Michael was stunned.

"Trevor…" He tried to say something to lighten the mood, or maybe just console Trevor, but Trevor slammed a hand on his mouth hard before he got another word out. He furrowed his brow in annoyance because of the mild pain and being silenced.  
"Shut up, Michael, I fucking... I need to say it, just let me…" Trevor closed his eyes, sat upright again and took Michael’s cock in his hand, his other hand still keeping Michael quiet, so Michael just accepted it and nodded. What else could he do? He saw tears leaving Trevor’s eyes before he closed his own because of both pleasure — Trevor was moving his hand faster and faster — and shame for how broken Trevor seemed right now, because he couldn’t help feeling responsible.

"I’ve always… Fuck! I love you, Mikey, I fucking love you," Trevor cried out, and Michael was so _close_. He tried to pry Trevor’s hand off of his mouth, but Trevor just pressed down harder. He breathed through his nose and just nodded again. _It’s okay_. Trevor was undeniably crying now. Michael felt flushed and bursting with emotions, self-hatred being the dominant one. 

"I missed you so much, I was so alone when you… I fucking _needed_ you, Mikey," he sobbed. Michael mumbled something similar to _please, I need you too_ and Trevor brought him over the edge. He moaned in ecstasy, his hips shot up as much as they could, and he felt his cum landing on his chest and stomach. He hated himself for coming when Trevor was so clearly distraught, but Trevor immediately let go of his cock and whined tearfully — Michael looked and saw Trevor stroking himself, and it was obvious he wasn’t going to last long either. Their eyes met when Trevor opened his eyes, and then Trevor shuddered and came with a long breathy groan, his cum mixing with Michael’s, and Michael moaned at the sight of Trevor. His mouth was finally released, and he gulped in air, feeling dizzy.

Trevor wiped his eyes quickly before rolling off of Michael, onto his back. Heavy breathing filled the room and they were quiet for the longest time. Michael wiped his stomach and chest on his covers — he felt sorry for the cleaner — and pulled his boxers back up. 

The silence was becoming uncomfortable. They should probably talk about what just happened.  
"Trevor…"  
"You know what’s bothering me?" Trevor interrupted, still slightly panting. Apparently they were not going to talk about it.

"I have a feeling I’ll find out."  
"You asking me if I've been fucking anyone while you pretended to be dead, you piece of shit. As if you have the right to do that."  
It took some time for Michael to figure out what he was talking about. He hadn’t said anything like that yesterday, had he? 

"You'd be right, but I didn't ask you that. I asked if anyone's… I think the words were _done that_ to you. You know, uh, dominated you." Michael hated that word: the idea that anyone could control Trevor was ludicrous.  
Trevor paused, obviously thinking back. He must have realized Michael was right, because he didn’t start arguing.

"As if I'd let anyone else but you do that to me." Trevor half mocked, half sighed.  
"I… I know, Trev. Or I hoped. Call me selfish, but…"  
"You're a selfish, conceited, deluded, vain, _possessive_ asshole and I fucking hate you," Trevor said instantly and Michael gently nudged Trevor's stomach but chuckled anyway. He let the back of his hand rest against Trevor's warm skin.  
"Yeah, can't really argue with that." 

Trevor propped himself up on his elbow, clearly not ready to end this conversation. Michael turned to face him and braced himself. 

"So what, Cowboy, you want to own my ass or something? You need to feel like the… the _big strong man of this relationship_? You do know I'm not some blushing bride you can deflower, right?"  
"I deflowered your ass over 25 years ago," Michael snorted while playfully grabbing Trevor's ass, and Trevor seemed slightly amused behind his frown, "but yeah, no, not even I would be delusional enough to try to own you. But I admit, it makes me feel special to hear that I've been the only one to have you like that." Michael gave Trevor's ass another squeeze before letting go.  
"You're a fucking hypocrite. You got _married_ and yet you want me to be your only one."  
"Still not what I said, Trevor," Michael quipped, and Trevor growled at him. Michael rested his hand on Trevor’s waist.

"So have you _done that_ to anyone?" Trevor asked after a while, trying to sound like he didn’t care. Michael saw through it.  
"You really wanna hear about mine and Amanda's sex life, Trev?"  
"Hah! I know she's not into that shit and I'm not even nearly dumb enough to believe that you've stayed faithful for a fucking decade, Porkchop, when you never even started."  
"... Yeah."  
"So? Have you?"  
"Stayed faithful?"  
"No, Michael," Trevor leaned closer to him, "I want to know if you've held anyone down like you did me, if you've slapped and choked anyone or fucked anyone's mouth like you did mine yesterday," Trevor's low voice sent a shiver down his spine and he grunted.  
"Of course not. I don't… rough up random whores I pick up on the street. You know I only do it for your deranged ass."  
"Oh, all _praise_ Saint Michael, who gets no satisfaction from it at all, he just does it out of pureness of his heart!"  
Michael gave a small laugh and pressed a kiss to Trevor’s jawline. "Shut up. Of course I fucking enjoy it," he mumbled against Trevor’s skin, staying there.

Trevor grunted.  
"But not enough to find someone who…"  
"It wasn't about the effort of finding someone, T. I just never felt like I needed that again. It's… only ever been you." He blushed at his level of sappiness, but then again, he could see and feel Trevor swallowing before muttering "How fucking touching" without any malice.

"Wait, did you think I’d find someone... more permanent?" Michael asked. He had never even thought about that. Working girls had done their job just fine.  
"You had me, didn’t you?"  
Michael didn’t have time to tell Trevor that he had been different before Trevor continued talking.  
"Any of these, uh... random whores of yours — what lovely words, by the way, _really respectful_ — were male?"  
Michael pulled further away from Trevor to see his face. He seemed solemn but calm.

"I thought about it," Michael answered carefully.  
"But?"  
Michael had a feeling Trevor wouldn’t like the answer, but he had decided to be honest, and he intended to keep that promise.  
"It felt easier to try and forget about you if I only stuck to women."  
Trevor glared at him but nodded. He clearly had something to say but he stayed quiet. 

"It didn’t help, Trev, if that’s what you’re thinking about. I didn’t forget about you. I managed to convince myself that I did the right thing but I never forgot—"  
"Yeah, yeah, sure, Cupcake, stop trying to convince me. It's fucking annoying," Trevor snapped at him.  
"That’s not what I’m trying to do," Michael answered, a bit irritated as well. He sat up and stretched his back. He was craving a cigarette, he hadn't had one all day which was incredibly rare, but he still had something on his mind. 

"What about you, T?"  
"What about me?" Trevor lay down again, sprawling on the bed and pushing his leg against Michael's, and Michael turned his head to look at him. Trevor raised his eyebrows.  
"I assume, knowing that you'll fuck any adult with a pulse, that some of your lays must have been men. You must have… done all sorts of things."  
"Beating hearts are overrated, Sugartits," Trevor started, and Michael just had time to think _Oh God, here we go again_ before Trevor smirked and added: "Take Mr. Raspberry Jam, for example. Now _that's_ one naughty bear."  
"The teddy on the grill of your car? Yeah, I don't wanna know." Michael chuckled.  
"A story for another time, then. Where are you going with these questions, Porkchop?" 

Michael shrugged, turning away from Trevor to gaze at his jacket where his poor cigarettes just waited to be smoked.  
"Just curious, T." The images of Trevor's tattoo and Trevor crying on top of him wouldn't leave his mind. He needed to know.  
"About…?"  
"You know."  
" _Nooooo_ , Cupcake, I don’t know."  
Michael pinched the bridge of his nose. Trevor really wasn't making this easy for him.  
"About what you got up to after… North Yankton." Michael looked at him again. Trevor had brought up their nine years apart first, so Michael dared to ask, but his reaction wasn't promising at all. 

"What I got up to." Trevor repeated blankly.  
"Yeah. Where did you go, what did you do. I want to know."  
Trevor’s glare was like ice and it made Michael feel uncomfortable and defensive. Of course he was used to Trevor being hostile, but this whole _What did you do when I pretended to be dead_ conversation was new territory and it felt a lot worse than his normal anger. 

"Fine, don't tell me." Michael tried to keep his voice neutral. As if that, or anything Michael did or said, would stop Trevor from letting him have it.  
"If you really cared about how I was doing, you would have asked me way earlier, like a decent human being would, but you don't care about anyone but yourself! So fuck you and your fake empathy, I ain't telling you shit," Trevor growled. 

Fake. The word really irked Michael. It made him fucking furious, actually. Of course he fucking cared, Trevor was just once again clinging to their past and their mistakes. Well, mostly Michael's mistakes, because Trevor never saw any fault in himself. 

"Ah, fuck you." Michael spat out a response, clenching his jaw. He got up and went to his clothes. He didn't really trust himself not to say anything irreversible right now if he stayed. 

"I'm just gonna check the vending machine for some drinks," he said coolly as he put his shirt, jeans and jacket on. He was thirsty as well, but mainly he just desperately needed to smoke and calm down for a moment. He pulled a cigarette out of the pack and put it between his lips before fastening his belt and putting on his shoes. 

"Those will kill you," Trevor reminded him earnestly after a silent moment, yet again as if Michael didn't fucking know that. Michael looked back at him over his shoulder, and another burst of anger flamed up inside him. How could he look so tranquil when everything was shit?  
"Yeah? I'll stop _smoking_ when you stop doing _meth_ ," Michael retorted and walked out the door. 

He lit the cigarette as soon as the door closed and leaned to a wall right next to the door. The first drag usually felt like heaven and he closed his eyes trying to find it now, but he just felt guilty for everything. He got angry because he didn't have a defense and he hated it when he had to acknowledge that he was wrong. He was a piece of shit, there was no way around it, and not even nicotine could convince him otherwise.

… Because Trevor wasn't completely wrong. After North Yankton, in their nine years apart, he hadn't really given any thought to what Trevor's life could be like — he had just assumed Trevor had died and convinced himself that it was better that way and tried to move on, and when Trevor found him, he had much more urgent things to consider than Trevor’s feelings. After that there just wasn't a good time to ask, ever. It still wasn't a good time to ask. But all of his excuses didn't hide the fact that he was an asshole.

But he was an asshole who _cared_ and somehow he had to make Trevor see that. He just hoped he would have time to do that before he fucked things up for good. 

Michael took out his phone to check the time — it was already way past 8 pm, what a way to spend the day — and he noticed Amanda had texted him back. Only one short message:

_Fuck you, you whore-mongering asshole_. 

Apparently she didn’t buy the excuse about a job. Michael grimaced even though he wasn’t surprised. He would have to come up with a way to tell Amanda soon. Definitely not today, but soon. Maybe he would take her out for a coffee. He thought about one of the many café scenes in _An American Divorce_ , the one with _"But my kids are my life!"_ and _"It’s time I did something for myself"_ , and scoffed. At least he and Amanda wouldn’t have to fight for custody. 

He finished his unsatisfying cigarette less annoyed at Trevor and more hating himself, and made his way to a vending machine behind the corner. He got them both Sprunks and looked at the snacks, but his growling stomach demanded real food, and Trevor must have been hungry, too. 

He walked back to their room to find Trevor where he left him, but eyes closed and buried in the covers. Michael smiled at the sight, sat down on the bed and pushed Trevor’s can against his hand, but Trevor ignored it. Michael laid it on the table with a deep sigh, opened his own and downed half of it.  
"You are not sleeping anymore, I need to get something to eat right now," Michael said and grabbed Trevor’s covers. He didn’t protest when Michael pulled them away, he just stretched, his whole body on display. Michael couldn't help eyeing him up. 

"Then go, Sugartits, I'm done with your _moodiness_ and _whining_ and..."  
"Oh, you're the one to talk about moodiness," Michael interrupted him but not that bitingly, he just mostly wanted Trevor not to venture in a long rant, and Trevor leered at him.  
"Fuck. You."  
"Okay, listen. I’m sorry. I’m an asshole."  
"Not good enough," he said, propping himself up on his elbows.  
"Let’s go get something to eat, okay? We can… talk about things," Michael finished blandly. Trevor scoffed.  
"However much I would enjoy talking about you being an asshole, that would take too much of my precious time. It would take _hours upon hours_. Get it? Because you're the biggest asshole that ever existed, Michael."  
"Very funny," Michael responded dryly.  
"Besides, I have things to do," Trevor said and got up in a flash.

Michael stared at Trevor, who was quickly finding his clothes from all around the room where they had been thrown off. He put down his soda can and got up as well.  
"Wait, what things?"  
Trevor had already pulled up his underwear and t-shirt and was putting on his pants when he grunted, "That’s none of your business."  
"Of course it’s my fucking business." Michael walked in front of the door to stop Trevor from leaving. They weren't done yet.  
"Oh, it really isn't." Trevor said sharply.  
"If it's a job, I could…"  
"No. You couldn't. Move it, or I’ll fucking…" Trevor had gotten dressed and was moving towards the door, "Gah! Get out of my way!"  
"No, T, just…"  
"Don't you fucking dare, Mikey! Don't you fucking try and stop me!" Trevor stepped even closer to him, pointing at him. Anyone else would have probably ran out of his way.

Michael, however, refused to back down.  
"Just hear me out!"  
"Argh, what? WHAT?" Trevor barked at him, eyes wild and frantic. Michael put up his hands, trying to calm him, calm this entire situation, because he didn’t know why Trevor was like this. Back in the days it was Trevor who had tried to keep him from leaving. He considered touching Trevor’s arm but he continued talking before Michael could do or say anything.  
"You fucking storm out of the room but nag at me for being _the tiniest bit pissed off at you_?! You… You, _you_ truly are _something_ , Mikey!" 

"I know. I… I fucking know and I'm sorry," Michael sighed, "I just… I think we have a lot to talk about but… " Michael clenched his teeth, then took a deep breath. They probably couldn’t discuss anything like this, when they were both in a bad mood, but the truth was that Michael was scared to let him go. If Trevor left now, he would have to go back home and face Amanda and the kids and he wasn't ready to do that in the slightest. But if Trevor didn't want to stay, he really couldn't stop him. 

"Okay, okay. I’m not stopping you," Michael said and moved away from the door, gesturing at it. Trevor took a few steps back and forth in the small room, not breaking their eye contact.  
"You want to talk about what, exactly? What else are you hiding from me?" Trevor’s voice was rough but not quite as hostile anymore.  
"I’m not hiding anything, Trevor. No more secrets."

Trevor laughed but Michael really couldn’t blame him.  
"I mean it. I’m _done_ with lying to everyone," Michael tried to convince Trevor, and maybe himself too. He _wanted_ to be done with it, at least.

"Sure, Mikey, sure. And after that you’ll start doing yoga and preaching world peace."  
Michael graced the jab with a small smile.  
"Listen. I'm gonna tell Amanda about us, soon. When I find the right way to do it. I'll call you and we’ll get together then, okay?"  
He expected Trevor to insult him and leave, but he stopped pacing and stared at Michael, his hands falling to his sides. 

" _You're_ gonna tell Amanda?" He asked, sounding truly astonished. Michael frowned.  
"Of course I'll tell her." 

Michael could practically see the gears turning in his head. 

"Let’s go have some fucking dinner, Cowboy."

***

There was a diner near the motel along the Great Ocean Highway, and even though Michael was used to going to more upscale places now, the small, cramped space made him feel right at home — he must have visited hundreds of places like this with Trevor when they were young. It was mercifully empty at this time, only a few truckers were sitting at the right end of the diner. Michael had led them to the other end and sat so that he could keep an eye out — just in case, that’s what he always did when going anywhere with Trevor.

Michael only glanced at the menu: they were always the same and he would order what he always did, anyway. But Trevor, who hadn't said a word during the drive, was looking out the window and bouncing his leg up and down, which combined with Trevor's general discomposure seemed to alarm their waitress, a young, pretty brunette. She was filling their glasses with water and Michael made sure to give her an especially pleasant smile, since Trevor was acting like a dick. She smiled back at him hesitantly and put down the water pitcher, getting out her notepad.  
"What can I get you, sir?"  
"I'll have a cheeseburger with fries."  
She nodded, wrote it down and turned to look at Trevor. "And you, sir?" Her voice was careful.

Trevor turned to look at her and Michael wanted to curse. He looked like a junkie just waiting to get his next fix, and the poor girl must be terrified of him.  
"Nothing,” he grunted.  
She was already nodding, but not eating for _at least_ 24 hours? Not okay.  
"He's actually having the same as me." Michael could feel Trevor's glare but he didn't protest, and she looked at them both before nodding to Michael again. 

"Anything else?"  
"No, thank you, sweetheart."  
She scurried off and Michael, casually leaning back against his chair, looked at Trevor again. Trevor stared back at him, looking slightly hostile, and Michael sighed.  
"I'm not hungry, Sugartits."  
"That's too bad." Michael stated.  
"It is too bad, there are children starving and you're just wasting food like this? You ignorant turd."  
"It's not going to waste since you're eating it." Michael said firmly. 

Trevor growled but gave up.  
" _Fine_. But look at you trying to be all authoritative. You'd actually think there's a shred of masculinity left in you."

Michael grimaced at him, but he was looking out of the window and bouncing his leg again. The silence stretched on, and Michael tapped his fingers against the table. 

This was the last thing he expected from Trevor. Trevor was _wild_ and _passionate_ and always filled with energy — and sometimes, usually, rage — and Michael couldn't understand why he was like this when they had just gotten back together. Evading him. Very clearly wanting to be somewhere else. Michael wasn't sure if he was pissed off or hurt. 

"Okay, so what the fuck's your problem?"  
"My problem?" Trevor raised his eyebrows as if it was unheard of to even consider that _Trevor Philips_ could have problems.  
"Yeah, your problem."  
Trevor’s gaze was scolding. "Fuck you! This is _so like you_ , Mikey! You don't understand human emotion!" Trevor's voice was way too loud for the small space and Michael winced.  
"Can you try not to make a fucking scene, T? Our waitress is already terrified of you," he spat out as quietly as he could, seething with anger. He glanced at the counter and saw her looking at them with wide eyes. _Fucking great_. 

"What does it fucking matter what she thinks about me?" Trevor grunted.  
"I just don't want her to panic. I'm hungry, okay? So please calm the fuck down."  
Trevor flipped him off, grabbed his glass and downed all of his water, some of it dripping on his jaw and his shirt.  
"Charming," Michael scoffed.  
"I'll show you charming, you fucker." Trevor put the glass down too hard and wiped his face.  
"Please do, for once." Michael hoped Trevor's defiance would work for him here. 

Michael sipped his water, too, and tried to calm down. After a while he dared to speak.  
"So which _human emotion_ am I not getting here?"  
"You don't even understand the _concept_ of emotions, you reptile," Trevor hissed.  
"Oh, that's nice," Michael rolled his eyes, "Just try me, T, please."  
But Trevor shook his head with a relentless glare.  
"You were the one who begged me to come here with you to talk. So talk, Porkchop. I'm waiting."

Michael sighed and ran a hand through his hair.  
"I guess you'd want to talk about Amanda. You seemed, uh… surprised at the motel." He held the eye contact. _Talk to me, T_.

Trevor crossed his hands but nodded.  
"I have a pretty fucking good reason to."

Michael did understand where Trevor was coming from, but the lack of trust was still eating at him. "You thought I wouldn't tell her." A statement, not a question. He had already gathered that much.  
"You never wanted to end things with her before, Sugartits. You were quite happy playing house."  
"You know how different things were back then, Trev," he groaned quietly.  
"Oh, how _were_ things back then? I don't think I've ever heard you talk about this subject before." Trevor's voice dripped with sarcasm and Michael opened his mouth to respond, but he was distracted by the waitress approaching them with their food. 

"Oh, fucking A," He mumbled and smiled. He was absolutely fucking starving, his eyes just followed the plate that was making its way to him.  
"Here you go," she said, placing the plates on the table.  
"Thank you, sweetheart," Trevor said with the normalest tone Michael had ever heard him use. It made him immediately look up: Trevor almost sounded and looked like a normal guy, not a murdering maniac at all, with a polite smile playing on his lips. 

Michael grinned. He could bet his house that Trevor couldn't keep that up all night, but he glanced at the waitress and she did seem calmer now.  
"Yeah, it looks delicious," Michael said, already grabbing his burger.  
"That's good to hear, sir! Let me know if you need anything."  
"Thanks," Michael answered, and as she left he grinned at Trevor. 

"See, you could be polite if you wanted to."  
"Shut up and eat your fucking burger," Trevor growled, but Michael was already gone. For a long while the food was all he could focus on, until he remembered what he was about to say before it arrived. He watched Trevor who was slowly eating, while picking his words carefully. He kept his tone soft.

"You know, things are different now that Tracey and Jimmy are adults. Well, as close to being functioning adults as they're ever gonna get. They don't need me the same way they did back then."

Trevor stopped eating and their eyes met.  
"And I… I loved Amanda. I wanted a life with her and the kids. I wanted it so bad. It turned out I'm a shitty father and even worse as a husband but hey, I gave it my best shot. I used to think I couldn't hate myself any more than I did, but _if I had left my kids_ , Trevor… I don't think I could've lived with myself after that." He licked his dry lips and poured them both some more water from the pitcher before looking at Trevor. 

Here he was again, the unreserved Trevor. No more avoiding. He put down his half-eaten burger with a sigh, and Michael wolfed down some fries before Trevor spoke.  
"I get that, Mikey, I really fucking do. And you know I love those kids too."  
Michael nodded. "I know."

Neither one of them pointed out the numerous times Trevor had tried to get Michael to leave them. Usually that had happened when he was high, though: sober Trevor had mostly understood that some things would just never happen. 

"It still fucking hurts. Your betrayal fucked me up, Michael."  
Michael nodded, tried to swallow down a sudden lump in his throat. He had of course seen it in Trevor, but hearing him admit it felt so much worse. Trevor looked at him and frowned briefly before smiling a bit, apparently deciding to lighten the mood.  
"Hey. Assuming that you're actually gonna tell her, Sugar, I guess that means I have to abandon my genius plan to turn up at your house. You know, high as a kite, wearing a dress. _Again_."  
Michael couldn’t help grimacing at the awful memory.  
"Not funny, Trev, you really scared Jimmy that day. You're lucky Tracey was with a friend, she wouldn't have bought the 'Uncle Trevor's just joking around' excuse like Jimmy did."

Trevor grunted, the slight playfulness in his voice gone. "You fucking know I never wanted to scare him or Tracey. I just wanted to…"  
"... To scare away my wife, yeah, I noticed." Michael pursed his lips.  
"Oh, yeah, blame me, when she was cheating on you! Your fucking wife!"  
Michael sighed. "Yeah, she was, and I forgave her. Like she forgave me before and after that. I was no angel myself, Trevor, I’m still not."

Michael finished his burger, keeping his eyes on Trevor who looked increasingly angry. 

Finally he grumbled something under his breath, and then spat out: "Fine. Maybe you weren't. But I was right all these years. She did make you _miserable_ in the end."  
"Yeah yeah, you were right, you know everything, I get it. Gloat as much as you want," Michael smiled a bit sheepishly, trying to lighten the situation again, but Trevor’s gaze turned furious.  
"Oh, I'm not fucking gloating, Michael! Do I look happy to you, you fucker, huh?!" 

Michael looked around the diner again worriedly, lowering his voice.  
"I was joking, why you gotta be so hostile? Calm the _fuck_ down," he said forcefully, and hissed the rest of his sentence: "We just had great sex last night and this morning..."  
"Oh! Oh! That's all this is to you, right?! _Just like good old times _..." Trevor mimicked him, and Michael fumed.  
"Let me fucking finish!" He slammed his hand to the table and Trevor snapped his mouth shut. "What I was going to say is that… That we're back together now. Can’t you just trust me like I trust you?" Michael finished desperately.__

____

A high pitched laugh escaped Trevor’s lips and he stood up, pushing the table with his hands so that their plates and glasses clattered against the table, but luckily nothing fell down on the floor.  
"No, I can’t, Michael!" He practically screamed, "I don’t fucking trust you at all! You LEFT me! You left me like everyone else always does!" 

____

There it was. That was what he had expected to hear at some point. Michael pursed his lips, glancing quickly at the waitress and found her staring right at them. He waved his hand a bit: _All under control_ , even when it was far from that. _Just a lovers’ quarrel_. She and the truckers at the other side of the room had obviously heard Trevor’s words, to them there was no doubt that it was just that. She turned away from them and Michael returned to look into Trevor’s eyes.

____

"Sit down, Trevor. Please," Michael said quietly, the look in his eyes making it clear that he wasn’t asking. Trevor stared at him for a long time, chest heaving angrily, before slumping back to the chair. Michael sighed and ran his hand across his face. 

____

"... Look, Trevor, in the past I never made you any promises…"  
"Wow, Mikey, that's a shitty excuse, even coming from you! _Yeah, I betrayed you, but you see, I didn't promise I wouldn't_! … That's just fucking wonderful!"  
"Ah, fuck you." Michael retorted with no real heat behind his words, but Trevor responded with so much anger that he must have taken all of Michael’s.  
"No, FUCK you! You kept coming back to _fuck me_ but I was never worth anything more than that to you. You knew I'd do absolutely anything for you and you _used_ me. It was easy for you, right? Seeing that I had nothing without you, no direction. I was nothing without you, huh?"

____

Michael's mouth had fallen open in shock and it took him a long while to recover.  
"T, that’s not…" He stammered, but Trevor leaned closer to him in his chair and pointed an accusing finger at him.  
" _You_ , Michael _Townley_ , made me feel like I was nothing but grime under your boot. I was never good enough for you, no matter how hard I tried to make you _love me_."  
"I didn’t mean to make you feel that way, Trev—"  
"Fuck. You! You know, Mikey, I wondered for years, what does _she_ have that I don’t? Why her and not me? And I came to the conclusion that she’s got absolutely fucking nothing over me, except the ability to spawn a few of your brats, cover up the fact that you like _fucking men_ as well..." Michael looked around them again when Trevor got loud again, but the waitress had luckily disappeared to the kitchen, and he turned back to Trevor, feeling anguished.

____

"Trevor…"  
"I get it, I really, really do! Me and her are somewhat similar, of course you would fall for her, but then that selfish _whore_ tried to have you all to herself when I was just as good to you as she was. No, I was better, I always loved you more than she ever did! But you chose her because she was a woman."  
Michael wanted to point out that a big reason for him choosing Amanda, as Trevor put it, were the kids; but he had repeated himself so many times that he knew Trevor wouldn’t listen to him at this point. Instead he raised his hand to try shush Trevor with a wave, but Trevor just gave him a harsh glare and continued talking.

____

"So _maybe_ she needed to see that she certainly wasn’t your only one, that I could push her out if I wanted to, and _you_ needed to see that your fucking facade of a life was a waste of time, when you could have had something real all that time!"

____

Trevor leaned even closer to him and lowered his voice. The look in his eyes was manic. Not unlike _that day_.

____

"So _maybe_ I got really high, put on that dress and came to your house to put on a show for you, and _yes, I killed a man on the way to your house_ , Michael, for looking at me funny and calling me a faggot, but you knew that already, didn’t you, you must have smelled the blood…"  
"You better shut..." he started to say, his tone near panicked, all blood drained from his face, but Trevor hissed the rest of his sentence.  
"... and noticed that I had tried to wash it away, I was soaking wet and so was your whole kitchen…"  
"Okay, okay, Trevor, please!" Michael begged him to stop, pressing his face into his hands, because there was a tightness in his chest and he could feel Trevor’s pain and anger and frustration.

____

Trevor actually stopped talking and Michael heard him sitting down again. Michael kept his eyes closed as memories of that day filled his head. He could remember coming home with Amanda and Jimmy, who was only 9 at the time. He could vividly see Trevor wearing a black and yellow summer dress, trying to cook a fucking omelette in their tiny kitchen. He could hear Trevor’s voice, cooing _Hello, darling, did you have a nice day?_ to him with a strained voice, and when Trevor came close to him he could, in fact, smell the blood, just faintly over the smell of the omelette burning. He could feel Trevor pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth before he had the time to step away. He could still see Amanda’s eyes filled with fury and fright and hear her take Jimmy to another room. _Uncle Trevor is just joking_ … It was the first time Michael ever came close to hitting Trevor, but of course he hadn't. He had taken him to his apartment and cut him off for almost a month until he had to go check he was still alive.

____

Michael dared to look at Trevor again, and their eyes met. He looked tired and miserable, and Michael tentatively took his hand as a sign that he wasn’t angry. Trevor looked at their joined hands with a frown but didn’t pull his away. Small solaces.

____

The silence stretched between them and Michael’s eyes wondered. He saw the two truckers getting up and shooting him dirty looks as they walked to the door, and Michael scoffed at them. Good for them to not have started mouthing off: Trevor didn’t need any more provocation right now.

____

Trevor cleared his throat and Michael turned his attention to him.  
"Do you know what she said to me the night of your wedding?" He asked more calmly, keeping his gaze at their hands.  
Michael furrowed his brow. That night he had gotten more wasted than he liked to admit, and it was all blurry to him, but he definitely didn’t remember Amanda going anywhere near Trevor. He just remembered Amanda being pissed off at him and his friends, including Trevor, for getting so drunk because she couldn’t drink herself.  
"No, I don’t think so," he answered after racking his brain, and Trevor snarled slightly.  
"She was all…" Trevor switched to a high pitched voice, imitating Amanda, " _You gotta leave Michael alone, you asshole, he’s with us now!_ "

____

Amanda had of course said essentially the same to him, multiple times and with variating level of profanities included, but he hadn’t expected her to say anything to Trevor.  
"I don’t remember any of that. She… actually said that to you?"  
"I think you were too busy trying to drown yourself at the bar."  
Michael chuckled. "Must have been. Wait, did you say _us_?"  
Trevor nodded, looking almost embarrassed. "Yeah. I… questioned her not drinking and she got mad and told me."  
Michael had a feeling Trevor did more than just _question_ Amanda, since she must have felt pretty provoked to break their deal of telling people later, and tell Trevor of all people, but he didn't mention it. 

____

"Oh man, and you pretended you didn't know when I told you? You could have just told me you knew instead of hiding it for weeks."  
"And, what, interrupt your… _honeymoon phase_? She already hated me enough," Trevor drawled out his words, then he shrugged and looked out the window. "And when you told me you seemed so excited that I didn’t have the heart to tell you that I already knew."  
Michael blushed. He had been excited to tell Trevor. That was before the reality of actually having a kid had hit him and he had gotten in his head. But fuck, he had never fully realized how hard it must have been for Trevor until he saw him like this and felt him squeeze his hand so tightly.

____

But he didn’t know how to put any of those feelings into words, so he chuckled and clung to the other thing Trevor had mentioned.  
"Yeah, she wouldn’t have appreciated that at all. She was so… so fucking adamant about cutting you out. She hated you just as much as you hated her. Well, I guess you still do," Michael said and rubbed the back of his hand a bit to show him that he didn’t mean it as attack. Just stating a fact.  
"Oh, absolutely," Trevor smiled mirthlessly before continuing: "I just wanted her to know that I was there first and that I still had you, Mikey. But I might not have been… thinking straight then. And I… Fuck! I ended pushing you too hard because I was so afraid of losing you. So _I'm sorry_ , okay?"

____

He definitely thought that _not thinking straight_ was an understatement, but he accepted the rare apology.  
"All forgotten, Trev. It was a mistake but it’s in the past, okay? No use in dwelling on it."  
"Oh, but I dwell, because I feel like shit. I am a piece of shit!" Trevor hissed in agony, trying to pull his hand away, but Michael didn’t let him.  
"Hey, calm down, Trev. What you mean?" Michael asked, furrowing his brow, and Trevor growled, his hand twitching but not pulling away.  
"I didn’t wanna scare the kids... I want them to love me, Mikey, like I love them." He looked into Michael’s eyes, all pensive, like he wanted to say more, but he didn’t, and Michael smiled gently.  
"They do love you. And they want to spend time with you, so don’t worry about any of that, okay?" Michael said, absolutely sure about his words, because the kids still loved Trevor more than him, "And… If you want, we can talk to them about it, later. Make sure they’re okay with everything. After I tell them. But believe me, it’s not gonna be you they’ll have a problem with, it’s definitely gonna be me." 

____

Trevor paused before huffing out a laugh.  
"... Yeah, let’s do that. A little heart-to-heart with _the kids_ and _Daddy_ and _Uncle T_ ," Trevor sneered, and Michael gave a short laugh.  
"Yeah, they’ll love that," Michael said, only a bit of sarcasm in his voice.

____

Michael ate a few fries that were mostly cold by now. It felt like they had been here fighting and talking for hours, and he was exhausted.  
"Jesus Christ. I guess the past 24 hours have been pretty hectic, huh?"  
"Hmm, yeah. I'm surprised you haven't bailed already, Sugartits." Trevor didn’t sound or look too hostile so Michael shook his head with a slight smile.  
"Ah, that’s where you’re wrong, Trev. I’m not bailing," he said, then remembered something Trevor said earlier. "But hey, I gotta say one more thing, and I want you to listen."

____

Their eyes met, and Trevor nodded. "I’m listening," he said solemnly.  
"Good. Because you need to know that I was never just using you. I… I cared about you. A lot, Trevor. I cared about you a lot," Michael murmured, but Trevor grimaced at him.  
"Nah, Mikey, you were just about _tolerating_ my feelings."  
"That’s not true, but… But I guess I see why you’d think that. I am sorry. I can’t… I have no excuses for my behavior, you know, coming and going like that." He rubbed his face with his other hand. 

____

"But I’m serious about us now. I mean, come on, look at me holding your hand in public. I would have never done this before," he smiled and lifted their joined hands as demonstration. Michael Townley would have rather taken a bullet than be seen doing anything romantic or sexual with another man, and so would have Michael De Santa, probably, until he got his maniac back.  
Trevor hummed shortly. "Maybe not, Cupcake, but you can’t blame me for being sceptical."  
"I’m not blaming you, okay?" Michael said, even when he did, just a bit, "But you gotta know it wasn’t just about sex, Trev. You know I… slept around. Getting laid wasn't an issue for me. It was _you_ who I couldn’t quit. I kept coming back to you." 

____

"... Stop talking like you’re in a fucking movie," Trevor smirked after a moment of hesitation, and it was affectuous.  
"That’s apparently the only way I can talk," Michael reminded, also smiling. "What was it you said that one time? I’m a _sentimental idiot who loves arguing as a form of attention_?"  
"Hah. That you are, Mikey, that you are."

____

Michael hummed shortly and lifted Trevor’s hand to his face, pressing a kiss to it; he felt somewhat ridiculous, but Trevor didn’t seem to mind.  
"Look, I’m not trying to pretend that what I did was okay. I was an asshole. But I am with you now. Me and Amanda are history as soon as I see her."  
"I guess we’ll see about that," he answered, still not completely convinced.  
"Well what do you want me to do, Trevor, huh? How am I gonna make you believe that I am serious? Tell me and I will fucking do it," Michael pleaded. Trevor didn’t answer and Michael was starting to get frustrated again. Trevor kept pestering him about his past mistakes, but he never had any ideas how to actually make things better.  
"You want some big gesture here? Me shouting _I’m gay_ from the rooftops? What is it, Trevor?"  
"I don’t need any of that Vinewood bullshit, thank you very much," Trevor scoffed amusedly, and Michael sighed.  
"Listen. Yesterday you told me not to fuck you around, T, but the same goes for me. I'm risking losing my family but I am fucking taking the chance to be _happy with you_. I don’t need this kinda—"

____

"Suck my cock."

____

The interruption stunned Michael for a few seconds.  
"Well fuck you too, then," he threw up his hands in frustration and leaned back against the chair. Trevor lifted his arms up and stretched his back before putting his elbows on the table and leaning towards him.  
"No, you dumb fuck. _Suck my cock_." Trevor jerked his head towards the bathroom, looking completely serious. Michael raised his eyebrows, then let out a breathy laugh. Was the fucker trying to avoid this conversation or was he just challenging him again? _Suck-my-cock-in-a-diner-bathroom-and-I-will-believe-you-but-of-course-you-wouldn’t_ kind of thing?

____

"You think I won’t do that?" He smiled. Trevor raised his eyebrows.  
"I’ll just pay first," Michael muttered, got up, dug out his wallet and threw a 50 on the table. Trevor squinted at it, clearly doing some calculations.  
"Oh, no, you dick, fuck that, I’ll pay for my own food," Trevor said, got up as well and fished out a 100 dollar bill from the wad of money he kept in his pocket. He dropped it on top of Michael's bill and flipped Michael off.  
"You fucking… First of all, I'm gonna buy you a wallet, you barbaric fuck," Michael grumbled, but fell silent as the waitress came up to the table.  
"Did you enjoy the — oh," she quieted down as she saw the amount of money on the table, "What's going on here, sirs?" She asked carefully, glancing between them.  
"What's going on here is that he's being petty," Michael explained pettily while placing another 50 pounds on the table to at least match Trevor's input. Trevor growled and the waitress took a step back, eyes wide and worried.

____

Michael gritted his teeth but put his hands up in surrender, because Trevor staying calm until they could at least get out of the place would be preferable. But _calm_ just wasn't really Trevor's thing.  
"Fuck! You! I am not petty and I am not your fucking date! Or your _wife_!" Trevor spat out, collected the bills from the table and shoved them to the waitress, who put out her hands in reflex or maybe in defense, along with his entire wad of cash. Her jaw dropped.  
"Sir, you…"  
"This is your lucky day, thank you for _great service_." Trevor told her, but kept his eyes on Michael. Michael glared at him, but it wasn’t as if they couldn’t afford to splurge on tips to waitresses so he just jerked his head a bit. _Do what you want_.

____

"What… I can't… Sir! This is too much, I…" she stammered, and Michael turned his attention back to her.  
"Keep it, sweetheart, you probably need it more than he does," Michael said with the fake voice he used to charm women and gave her a small smile, when Trevor said nothing and just kept shooting him dirty looks. She opened and closed her mouth for a while, looked at the money and started to cry. Michael grimaced but didn’t blame her, that must be way over a month’s pay for her. She walked behind the counter, sobbing in shock, and Michael stepped around the table, close to Trevor, lowering his voice.

____

"Look, you won. Now, do you want that blowjob or not?" 

____

Trevor's glare could have possibly killed, but he grunted, took Michael's hand violently into his and dragged him towards the toilets. Michael glanced at the waitress on the way, but she was blowing her nose behind the counter and not paying them any mind.

____

They reached the men's room and Trevor pushed him into one of the cubicles. Michael glanced around, and luckily it looked as clean as it probably could get, but Trevor quickly slammed him against the wall and pressed himself against him. 

____

"I fucking hate you sometimes, Mikey, you've turned into a pretentious asshole," Trevor said, his voice raspy, while he ran his hand from Michael's sides to his chest, "You still think you're better than me, huh? That's what that was, wasn't it?"  
"No!" Michael exclaimed, offended, because it _wasn't_. He hadn't even thought about paying for the food — it had become an instinct after being married to Amanda for almost 25 years, and he was going to tell that to Trevor, but all thoughts escaped from him when Trevor bit into his neck ferociously and sucked. Michael gasped in pain, closing his eyes tight.  
" _Fuck, Trevor_!" He cried out, his hands shooting to Trevor’s shoulders, but he didn’t need to push the lunatic away, because he let go and instead kissed him roughly on the mouth. Trevor touched the bite mark, making Michael yelp into the kiss, and then he quickly undid his belt buckle and pushed his pants halfway down his thighs.

____

"Down, boy," he snarled against Michael’s lips, then took a step back.  
"You’re the dog here — a _rabid_ one, you insane fucker," he answered just as angrily, his neck throbbing painfully, but when Trevor pushed his shoulders, he didn’t resist, just held onto Trevor’s hips and got on his knees.

____

Trevor was more than half hard already and Michael took him in his mouth with no hesitation, wetting his cock with his tongue before sucking hard. _Yeah, suck his cock real good, that’ll teach him not to be so fucking crazy_ , Michael scolded himself, but he felt Trevor getting harder in his mouth and it was so satisfying that he made a sound of pleasure despite his anger. 

____

"Oh, yeah, _Mikey_ ," Trevor moaned, weaving his hand through Michael’s hair, taking a handful into his grip, "It sounds like you've missed this, isn’t that precious…" He grinned.  
Michael shot him a harsh glare but twirled his tongue around the head before taking Trevor, fully hard now, deeper into his mouth. Trevor smiled down at him, one of those smiles that would be terrifying to most people. 

____

"Well, since it’s been well over ten years for you, I’ll be nice, even if you don't deserve it," Trevor said with a fake, sugary voice, and thrusted into Michael's mouth slowly once, and then again and again, finding a pace that wasn’t slow but wasn’t _fast enough_ , either. It had been a while — fine, a good long while — since Michael’s last time, but not so long that Trevor needed go easy on him.

____

… _Suck his cock real good, that’ll show him_ , Michael smirked internally. There are some things you just can’t forget, and evidently one of them was _exactly_ how to make Trevor Philips weak in the knees: he sucked again, this time also using his tongue, which made Trevor’s knees buckle and his head throw back before he started thrusting deeper.

____

"Fuck, fuck, yes, aren’t you a _good_ little cocksucker…" He breathed heavily, getting talkative like he always used to. Michael hummed something that sounded affirmative and put his hands to Trevor’s ass, pulling him hard towards him, bobbing his head at the same time. Trevor wailed and held onto his hair tighter, guiding his head at a faster pace and gasping profanities.

____

He turned his gaze back to Michael.  
"Oh, you look so fucking beautiful down there, Sugar, maybe I should…" He grinned deviously, and Michael immediately knew what he meant and shot him a defiant glare: _Oh no you won’t_. He wasn’t about to clean up such a mess off his face in a fucking diner bathroom.

____

Michael was determined to make Trevor finish in his mouth instead, so he tightened his grip on Trevor, preventing him from pulling away.  
"No? Fine, next time then," he panted, fastening his pace, pushing deep enough to actually make Michael gag a bit. Trevor didn’t stop thrusting, but Michael didn’t want him to — he had been getting harder by the minute, and seeing Trevor lose control was sealing the deal. His erection was almost painfully pressing against his jeans.

____

Trevor whined, and from that Michael knew he was getting close. He made a sound in the back of his throat, to which Trevor reacted with a rough pull on his hair.  
"You want me to cum in your mouth, Mikey?"  
Michael hummed in response and Trevor’s movements became erratic.  
"Fuck! Fuck, Mikey! I love you, _I love you!_ " He cried out, pulling Michael’s head hard, and Michael felt his cock throbbing as he came with a whine. The taste wasn’t something he was a fan of but he tried to swallow it all, _cleaner that way_ , while Trevor stroked his hair. 

____

Trevor stayed still for a while before he pulled out and fell on his knees in front of Michael. He pressed their mouths together in a rough kiss, his tongue invading and devouring his mouth. Michael pulled away with a breathy laugh.  
"You like your own taste that much?" He teased, but the look on Trevor’s face was harsh.  
"Fuck off," Trevor growled, got up and walked out of the cubicle.

____

Michael stayed on his knees, feeling dumbfounded and abandoned, until he realized his knees hurt like hell and he pulled himself up, his knees cracking. He was definitely too old to be giving his first diner bathroom blowjob. He waited for his erection to go down, which wasn’t too difficult considering how angry he was, and checked himself from the mirror before walking back to their table, trying to look nonchalant. 

____

But Trevor wasn’t at the table, and Michael didn’t see him until he looked out the window: he was pacing by the Bodhi and wringing his hands. Michael saw their plates and glasses still on the table so he drank some water to get rid of the taste in his mouth. There were still no other customers, and the waitress was quickly dabbing her eyes dry behind the counter.

____

He hesitated for a second before walking to her.

____

"Hey, I'm really sorry about all that fighting..." Michael started, but she just shook her head.  
"It's okay, sir, I’ve heard worse. And I'm sorry for… this," she said, gesturing at her face embarrassedly: her mascara had ran down but it wasn’t that bad. Michael chuckled awkwardly.  
"It's just that the tips haven't been good lately and I'm trying to save for college…" She trailed off, waving her hand a bit. 

____

"Listen, you really don't need to explain. And he _really_ doesn't need the money. You know, uh, the IT business has been really successful." Michael came up with the lie quickly, not wanting them to seem like actual criminals, even though the pair of them looked and acted nothing like a couple of IT millionaires and the fact that they were carrying that kind of money in cash was probably a dead giveaway. _Fucking Trevor_.

____

But she gave a small smile, not questioning it at all.  
"Right. I didn't even properly thank your… um, partner, and he kinda ran out so… so could you please tell him I said thank you? God, I hope I didn’t seem ungrateful because I really am grateful!"  
Michael paused for a moment. Partner. Yeah, that worked. His mood lightened up even if Trevor acted like an asshole, because _partner_ sounded nice, like it was meant to be.

____

"Don’t worry, you didn’t," Michael said with a grin, "But I’ll tell him."  
She laughed shortly. "Thank you, sir. I hope all the best for you two."  
"Thank you," he said and checked her name tag for the first time, feeling a bit like an asshole but also like a movie protagonist, "and good luck in college, Gennie." She beamed at him.

____

He took out his cigarettes and light one up when he headed towards the Bodhi. Trevor was still pacing next to it, looking like he was right on the edge of going on a rampage. All that nervous energy made Michael tense up slightly, but he walked to Trevor with a smile.  
"She asked me to thank you for the tip. She’s saving for college and you made her whole month, probably," Michael said, leaning on the Bodhi while smoking and looking at the impressive night sky. 

____

Trevor stopped in front of him and made a noise impossible to interpret, and Michael turned his eyes to him. His face was unreadable.

____

"You need to go, Sugartits."

____

Michael’s eyebrows shot up and after a while he opened his arms wide, all good mood gone.  
"What the fuck, T? Talk about mixed signals. You’ve been yapping about me _running back to Amanda_ and… and _everyone always leaves me, I don’t trust you_ , and now you want me to go?"

____

Trevor growled weakly in response.  
"Yeah, Michael, just attack my weaknesses. What else would you do in a situation like this?" He leaned his hands on his knees, actually seeming to be in pain.  
Michael cursed under his breath and rubbed his eyes.  
"Fucking… Yeah, I did that, I’m sorry. But what situation, Trev? What’s going on?" He was worried for Trevor, was he even fit to drive?

____

But he straightened himself up and looked at Michael again, regaining the usual bite in his voice.  
"It’s nothing you could help me with. So I’m going to do _my thing_ and you’re going to do _your thing_ and I’ll let you know when I’m done with my things, comprende?" 

____

Michael grinded his teeth before sighing.  
"Fucking fine. Where am I supposed to go then?" He still didn’t feel like _home_ was an option here.  
"Are we fucking joined at the hip, huh, Porkchop? I don't give a fuck where you're going, but I already called you a cab. Shouldn’t take them long." 

____

Michael scoffed before putting up his hands, throwing his cigarette on the ground. "You… Fine. _Fine_!" Nothing about this was fine, but Trevor had clearly already decided. 

____

Trevor went around the car to the driver’s side and Michael followed him. All kinds of suicide missions Trevor could go on crossed Michael’s head and he grimaced.  
"Just call me, okay? Let me know you’re alive." 

____

Trevor just grunted and got in the car, starting it up. Michael leaned on the door, reaching in for a kiss, but Trevor stared at him coldly, not meeting him halfway.  
"... So what, you’re just gonna use me and then leave me here waiting, huh?" Michael tried to joke, but his jaw was tense.

____

Trevor looked dead serious when he answered.

____

"Oh, how the tables have turned, Michael."

____

Michael’s forced smile died out completely and he stepped away from the car.

____

He had always made rash decisions, acted on impulse, dove head first into deep waters only to find out later that it had been stupid and dangerous. As he watched Trevor speed away, he wondered if this particular dive would end up killing him.

____

**Author's Note:**

> It took me three months, and considering some dialogue was moved to this part from the previous one, that's a long time. I hope it was worth the wait! There will obviously be at least one more part: I would never end this series like this (look at the series title for a spoiler :D). Let me know what you think! This series really is my passion project and I've used hours and hours of my time rewatching cutscenes and gameplay, listening to the friend conversations, trying to make any sense of this game's messed up timeline etc, so I'd really love some comments. :')
> 
> Thank you, KingCroweOfCamelot, for beta reading and being my muse, BartyMellvue and others for helping with _that scene_ , Aldrig for being my most enthusiastic cheerleader, and everyone else who have helped with grammar and everything else!
> 
> Check out these amazing fanarts for this fic: this one [by marina-rasteniye](https://nevergonnasimpyoumikey.tumblr.com/post/631626697774612481/marina-rasteniye-he-saw-tears-leaving-trevors) and this one [by prim42](https://nevergonnasimpyoumikey.tumblr.com/post/631691360990363648/the-wonderful-prim42-drew-me-this-as-a-birthday)! <3 
> 
>   
> And once again, inspired by a song:
> 
> D-A-D — Sleeping My Day Away 
> 
> _Mumbling good morning and raising my head  
>  A bad breath kiss to my pillow pet  
> I take a look at the day turns and stay in bed  
> Open my eyes when the day have died  
> I turned the world and I slept alright  
> Now my daymare is over I zip my jeans tight  
> Oh lord won't you bless this night..._
> 
> _From the pale lips of a youth who lay  
>  I'm sleeping my day away  
> And when the night comes to the city I say:  
> I'm sleeping my day away  
> Yeah! With my pale lips in the pillow I say:  
> I'm sleeping my day away  
> After dark is the game I play_


End file.
